Out There
by sortacrazi
Summary: An introverted journalist leaves home to party with her friends. She meets Yang, a boisterous bartender with a spunk streak, and the attraction is immediate. This is filth. Smut. Plot. Bumbleby.


On a Sunday evening, it was customary – tradition, even – to curl up to one side of her plushy couch with a book and a mug of piping hot chamomile tea. She reserved a few hours before her curfew just to relax, unwind after a week of hard work, writing, and researching. Blake was planning on finally getting through those last couple of chapters of a highly erogenous fantasy book she'd stumbled on in the local used bookstore – _Ninjas of Love_. Her routine was important to her, as she seldom had the energy to do much else after the week was through with her.

Blake curls up against the arm of the couch, pulling a comfy knitted blanket over her legs as she sets herself up. She wears a simple black yukata for nightwear, the curls of her hair dripping lightly into the silk of the garment. The book rests on the coffee table in front of her, but she ignores it for just a second longer to take a little sip of her tea. Satisfied, the faunus plucks the book up, cracking it open and settling in for the read.

As she reads, the tone of the chapter is immediately hot and heavy. Golden eyes skim hungrily across the ink scrawled across the crisp bone-white paper. Face flushing, she realizes she'd forgotten just where she'd stopped herself last Sunday. Mouth drying, Blake becomes very aware of the soft warmth of her legs touching. She shifts, her thighs brushing with smooth, languid purpose. There's a tingle there, at the height between her thighs. It spreads slowly, slowly upwards. Smoldering at her core elicits a squirm of her hips, a subconscious action she wasn't entirely aware of.

Her front door bursts open.

Startling, Blake can't help a tiny gasp, her gaze flying up to meet the cool blue eyes of her close friend, Weiss Schnee. The platinum-haired girl pauses in the door way, her eyebrow arching at the literature clasped in her hands.

"Blake, you need to get laid," she remarks unceremoniously, rolling her eyes.

Irate, the faunus' ears twitch and she lays the book back down on the coffee table, muttering, "No, I don't. Also, why are you he-?"

"Blake needs to get laid?!"

Groaning, the dark-haired faunus notices Ruby popping her head out of the car parked just inside of the driveway. Weiss steps out from the middle of the door way so Blake can see Ruby in the passenger's side of the car, wearing an uncharacteristically scandalous red dress. Her hair is teased to look crazier than it normally is. She waves with a grin. Despite the chill of the autumn evening, Ruby doesn't seem at all affected. Her breasts nearly pop out of the tiny dress, the collar dropping in a _very_ low v.

Turning to look at Weiss, Blake notices with a grimace that she, too, is dressed up for the evening. Her fashion is a little more muted, with a cardigan to hide her cleavage, an intricately-designed white dress that falls to her mid-thigh beneath the dark blue garment.

"I said I wasn't going out," the faunus whines. "Leave me alo- Wait, is she in my car?"

"You're coming out," Weiss reiterates from this morning, ignoring the question. "Whether you like it or not. I refuse to be the only sober one and Ruby just turned nineteen."

"How… did she get into my car?"

"Stop worrying about your car."

" _Woooo_ ," Ruby wails from the window of the black Mazda.

Blake's ear twitches. "Has she already been drinking?"

The white-haired girl puts a hand on her hip, smirking. "You don't go to the bar sober."

Furrowing her brow, Blake wonders at the thought process that led to _that_ conclusion.

"I don't think I've ever seen so much of Ruby's skin," the faunus mutters darkly, pushing herself up from the couch. She throws an accusatory look at Weiss, who shrugs and turns her head away to hide her blush. The faunus stretches her legs, sighing as she dejectedly walks to the stairs. "Just give me some time to change."

"Wear something _sexy!_ " Weiss yells after her when she disappears to the second floor of the house.

"Anyone ever tell you you're a useless lesbian?" Blake throws back, stripping out of her yukata reluctantly. She travels across the carpeted second-story loft, looking around for a blouse or something. Deciding to forego a bra, she opts out of 'sexy', slipping on a light yellow tank-top with thick shoulder straps and an ebony sweater over top of that. She picks out a simple pair of dark blue jeans with rips in the front of them, and doesn't bother to pick matching socks – she was feeling the stripes _and_ the polka dots, anyway.

When she comes back down, Weiss scoffs. "I _said_ sexy."

"Ruby's enough sexy for the three of us right now," the bookworm replies with a teasing smirk. She slips on a pair of sneakers. "By design, right?"

The woman's ivory skin morphs into a bright, cherry-tomato red. "Will you stop implying that I dressed her?"

Humming nonchalantly, Blake plucks her car keys from the faithful wooden key hook by the door. Weiss goes ahead of her, and she locks the front door of her house behind her. When she presses the button on her key, the Mazda's engine turns and comes to life purring. Weiss climbs into the back seat as she comes around the vehicle, opening the door and plopping down into the driver's side seat without much care for the vehicle's suspension.

"Blakey," Ruby breathes, leaning over to rest her head on the faunus' shoulder. Blake can't help but smirk at the girl, raising an eyebrow at the indisputable sharp scent of tequila and the coppery scent of beer on her lips.

"How much have you been drinking?"

"Not enough," the redhead chirps in her sing-song voice. "I have nineteen years of superiority to make up for."

Blake makes a face. "You mean sobriety."

"Su-per-i-ority," she replies, sitting up suddenly. "'Cause I'm great."

She throws a look at Weiss with the rear view mirror, who pretends not to notice by looking out the car window.

Rolling her eyes, Blake puts the key into the ignition. She puts her seatbelt on, clicking it into place and throwing the car into drive. Driving automatic had been a compromise with her insurance company – she prefers manual, but her insurance company insisted on jacking up her premiums so she decided against it. There was something about a stick shift that was more exhilarating to drive – whether it was the control, the feeling of the engine responding to her shift. They roll out of the driveway, and Ruby slaps on some music.

"Nice dress, by the way," Blake remarks as they roll to the end of the road. She glances at Ruby swiftly after looking both ways, pulling out onto the next road and falling in line with the unhurried traffic.

"Thanks!" the redhead chirps, smiling towards the woman in the back. "Weiss picked it out for me."

Blake flashes a smirk in the rear-view mirror.

"Ugh," Weiss derisively utters.

The conversation stalls as music fills the silence, and even Blake bobs her head to the tune.

She doesn't have to ask where they're going. Ruby's been talking about going out to the bar together for months – at one in particular. It was a saloon-style bar in the middle of downtown, the Yellow Flag, known for its loud music and intense shows. Ruby had mentioned her sister worked at the Yellow Flag, and Blake always wondered what it took to become a bartender there, hearing some odd stories of a sort-of audition-style interview.

It's about a ten minute drive to the bar from where Blake lives. She pulls into an empty spot beside a bright orange and yellow motorcycle, which she appreciates with a glance as she yanks the key from the ignition, halting the purr of her Mazda. It was a sports bike, for sure. Built for speed, but thickly framed. She wonders at the horsepower of the machine, slipping her seatbelt off in her reverie.

"You okay?" Ruby inquires, tapping her arm before opening her door.

Blake blinks, shaking her head as she tears from her thoughts. "Oh, yeah, sorry."

Outside, the music is a palpable force around the building. It's a four story building, the bar taking up the bottom floor. The bass of the music inside reverberates through Blake's ears, and her heart pounds as the sound passes over her. Her ears flick back in distaste, wincing as a drop in the music that pops all four of her eardrums.

"Sure is loud," she mutters, wishing she had've stayed home with her book. "Do people talk in here?"

"You'll get used to it," Ruby yells, taking the lead. She bounces towards the lacquered wooden door, skipping over the ledge of the sidewalk.

Weiss grabs Blake's hand when the dark-haired girl starts to fall behind, practically dragging the faunus to the door. Shooting her a scathing, cold look, the platinum-haired woman mutters, "Come on, stop being such a baby."

Blake pouts but gives up her resistance.

As they walk inside, Blake realizes most of the things she'd heard about the Yellow Flag had only been half-true. It was halfway between a nightclub and a bar, having the traditional well-worn wooden look a saloon but the light show of a rave. With the high ceilings and centrality of the bar itself, the Flag seemed almost like an amphitheatre. There were stairs leading down from the door with severals lofts and balconies along the way, each with their own places to get lost in. Televisions hung from the walls and corners of these lofts, pointing down towards the bar or the sitting areas depending on which one you were looking at. The ceiling was layered with rigs upon rigs of lights which Blake could hear sliding around, shining different colors down at the center.

"Oh, a show," Weiss comments, pointing down the stairs.

Ears flattening against her head, Blake's eyes settle upon a girl dancing on the top of the worn out wooden bar. The faunus stops in place, her breath escaping her parted lips. Clad in leather boots, tight denim shorts, and a thin orange tank top is an amazon of a woman with flames for hair. Blake golden eyes rove over the woman's legs, appreciating the way they flex as she sways her hips to the music. The tank top is thin enough that Blake can nearly see through it, the outline of a six pack tightening and flexing as she turns.

Her body moves in tune with the music, a sheen of sweat accentuating the curves and striations of her muscular limbs. Blake's gaze travels over her chest, up the long curve of her neck to her face. Brow drawn in concentration and violet eyes burning with raw confidence, an overtly sexual smirk playing across her lips as her fiery hair falls into her face, the woman is as intoxicating as the liquor in her voyeurs' cups.

Blake can't take her eyes off of her, her heart racing to the beat of the woman's feet on the bar top. Heat courses through her, simmering from her core, and she feels as though she was breathing in fire. Her entire body goes stiff, she doesn't trust herself, her fingers curling into fists as she attempts to control a primal, seething desire she'd never felt before.

The woman turns once more. By chance, her violet eyes snatch Blake out among the many. Her burning gaze seizes Blake perfectly, melting the faunus' strength. She feels her legs tremble as the woman's eyebrows wiggle flirtatiously, her fingers climbing up the chiseled staircase of her abdomen, between her breasts and along her collarbone, a daring come-hither for Blake alone. Whistles and cat-calls echo through those closest to her, and Blake longs to be among them, her breath catching as the woman's teeth graze her bottom lip suggestively.

Too soon, the woman's dance carries her attention away. Blake hates the separation, watching hungrily as the blond revels in the lavishing looks from all across the club. She's about to start towards the woman when the song comes to a close, and her dance ends with her spinning off the counter top. She lands on the ground with her hands extended above her head, grinning widely at her admirers.

It's then that Blake realizes she'd been dancing with someone else as well, a woman with a bob cut with a bright orange streak through a single lock of her brown hair. She stays on the bar, holding a mic up to her lips and speaking through the coms, "Did you perverts enjoy the show?!"

There's an uproar of yeses that follows.

"Then come buy more drinks!"

Blake is nearly shoved off her feet as people rush past her to get to the bar.

"Hey!" Weiss' voice pierces the curtain of noise around them, and she feels the heiress' cold hand around her wrist. Blake follows her lead to where Ruby's dancing with a group of people. "Be careful, you'll get squished."

"Thanks," Blake breathes, shaking her head. She feels like she's waking up from a dream, her mind sluggish and reluctant as memories of the dancing blond play in the background. "I wasn't expecting the stampede."

The white-haired woman smirks at her, raising an eyebrow. "I saw you staring."

Flushing, the faunus' ears flatten against her head.

"And who's the useless lesbian again?"

Weiss' tease invokes a sense of arrogance that she's not expecting. Blake turns to look over the loft, watching the blond dancer mixing drinks as money slams on the counter. Ever the show woman, she somehow spins the bottles in her hands, pouring liquor with practiced grace and expertise. The faunus smirks, glancing back at her friend and remarking, "You still are."

Weiss' jaw drops as she watches Blake turn away, her eyes widening in shock.

"Good luck, Blake!" she yells as the faunus strides down the stairs.

The crowd begins to thin away from the bar, dispersing to the lofts and the dance floor. Blake saunters through the dancers, realizing as she gets closer and closer the several errors associated with her confidence. She wasn't exactly dressed for a party, or for seduction, and the woman behind the counter probably had a thousand different customers asking her out on a nightly basis. Not to mention, she was human – and it was somewhat of a taboo for a human or a faunus to have a fettish for the other species. And then there was another fact – she might not even be gay.

Blake keeps her chin high, though, and strides right up to the bar. She might as well enjoy herself if she's not going to partake in the dancing. She wasn't particularly interested in third-wheeling for Weiss and Ruby, either.

Sitting on a comfortable, black stool, she twists towards the bar. There are only the two of the dancers behind the bar, both dancing around one another as they serve and prepare drinks for the rest of the lineup. It's shocking to see how gracefully they handle the masses, like the sheer number of people demanding drinks isn't at all intimidating. It isn't long until the brown-haired one takes notice of Blake, arching an eyebrow in silent question as she works.

Realizing she's being served, Blake says, "Get me something that'll melt my face off."

Both of the women chuckle at that, but it's the blond that comments, "I have just the thing."

The blond moves to the side of the bar where Blake is, plucking out a couple of bottles from behind the counter. The faunus watches as she spins the bottles in front of her face, twisting and throwing them up into the air as though there's no threat to gravity. Her boobs bounce as her arms move, and she grins shamelessly as she works, as though she knows exactly what her show is doing to the faunus.

Blake's cheeks burn. "You don't lack for skill, do you?"

Her violet gaze flickers up, the lights accentuating the pink strands in her eyes while the shadow of her eyelashes deepens the purple. It's an odd and alluring affect, and Blake can't look away.

"I saw you on the stairs, watching," the bartender comments, lips curling at the corners. "How could I possibly not give you more to look at?"

"It'd be rude of you," Blake purrs, smiling back at the blond. She props her elbows up on the counter, leaning forward. "But I suppose you're used to that kind of attention."

"You're not wrong."

The blond plops down a filled glass of red-orange liquid and sticks a straw into it, sliding it across the counter top towards the faunus. Blake catches it with one hand, eyebrows rising as the bartender leans towards her. Her tank top's collar falls away from her chest, revealing a white lacy bra just barely containing her large breasts. Blake can't help but chuckle at the show, shaking her head at the blond's unabashed antics.

"But I like you."

Blake gives a wide grin at that, her stomach fluttering. "I'm Blake."

"Yang." The blond winks at her, but she doesn't stay to chat.

Blake doesn't mind, enjoying watching the woman tend to the customers that come up asking for drinks. She sips at the drink in her hand, enjoying the sweet blend of cranberry and orange juice with peach schnapps and – she takes another sip – vodka. The alcohol burns as it goes down her throat, leaving her with a warm and tingling feeling that spreads through her body, all the way to the tips of her fingers. With a little sigh, she leans her head into her hand, golden eyes glimmering as she watches the blond mix drinks.

The other bartender glances at her from time to time, smirking and elbowing Yang after a few moments of this. The blond throws her looks, too, smiling as her face starts to pink. A blush? Blake's surprised, and endeared, that her presence could have such an affect.

After some time passes, Blake pulls out her phone to read. There's something comfortable about that spot by the bar, with Yang looming just across the counter, that makes the rest of the world fade into the background. She has no problem focussing on the words on the screen, looking up from time to time. Sometimes, she catches Yang staring at her, and wiggles her eyebrows daringly before going back to read. She can't help the tiny smirk on her face.

"Whatcha readin'?" Yang inquires, coming over to her. She occupies herself with a cloth, wiping at a clean bit of counter.

She's not sure if it's the alcohol or the woman's attitude that gets her to admit, "Ninjas of Love."

Yang grins at that. "That new erotica?"

"Mmm," Blake affirms, tearing her gaze up from the screen. She holds Yang's gaze with her own, murmuring, "Gotta pass the time somehow."

"Not much of a dancer?"

"I'm more of an observer," Blake replies with a wink.

"You…" Yang trails off, her lips twisting into a smile as she shakes her head.

"You're not the only one who can flirt," the faunus remarks and returns to her book, tilting her head down to hide the smile on her face and the embarrassed flush of her face.

Blake glances up into the lofts at some point, golden eyes skimming over the dancers until she finds her white-haired friend dancing carelessly with her red-haired friend. Clearly, the two are both very drunk, and she absently wonders if she ought to go check on them. But as they dance, Ruby notices her watching them and waves with a big smile, her silver eyes alight with joy.

 _I shouldn't,_ the faunus decides, her lips quirking back up at the girl. Perhaps the liquor would push them to acknowledge their feelings, anyway.

Taking a sip from her drink, she finishes it off. She doesn't even have the opportunity to ask for another when a glass filled with the same sweet liquid is pushed in front of her. Looking up, Blake smiles – hoping to see Yang, but frowns when it's some guy from the dance floor.

"Hey there," he says, sounding friendly. He leans close to her, stealing space on the counter top with his arm. She frowns up at him; he's handsome, but she's simply…not into it. He's got spiky blond hair, and a shirt that's completely unbuttoned, revealing a muscular chest and abdomen. Blake's nose tingles as he leans into her space – beneath the cologne, she could smell the unmistakeable scent of faunus. "I'm Sun."

"Hey," Blake replies, furrowing her brow. "I'm not really looking for anything, thanks."

Sun blinks at her. "No?"

"No," she reiterates.

"Are you sure? I know how intimidating this place can get," Sun says, smiling at her cheekily. "Us faunus gotta stick togeth-"

Answering an unsaid prayer, an arm slides around her waist. Blake swivels around out of her control to face Yang. Her face is lightly flushed from working nonstop for hours, a light sheen of sweat glistening on her skin. She dips down close to Blake, who can't help but take a deep breath, enjoying the citrusy scent of her shampoo and the light vanilla tones of her perfume. When their eyes meet, Yang gives her a mischievous wink and presses her lips lightly to her cheek. Blake's heart rate accelerates, a tingle flying all the way down her spine.

"Hey babe," Yang sighs against her flesh, loud enough for the man to hear. Her gaze flickers up to Sun. "Who's this?"

Swallowing, Blake croaks, "S-Sun. His name's Sun."

"Mm," Yang hums, plopping down on the stool at Blake's other side, her arm hung around the faunus' shoulders. She beams up at the man. "Cheating on me already?"

"No," Blake says, finally realizing what's happening. She slides her arm around the dancer, grateful for the opportunity. Yang's skin is hot beneath her tank top, the curve of her hip fitting perfectly into the palm of her hand. "But you have to admit, he's not bad-looking company."

Sun smiles sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. "I should've guessed you were with the bartender, sitting here by yourself. Sorry."

"It's okay," Blake comments, watching as he turns and walks away. She sighs, dropping her arm away from the woman and turning to the drink on the table. Frowning down at it, she almost feels a little bad. "Well, that couldn't have gone smoother."

Yang pulls her arm away, much to Blake's discontentment. She props herself up on the counter, cradling in her other hand a drink of her own.

"Drinking on the job?" Blake remarks with a playful raise of her eyebrow.

"Hah," the blond returns, rolling her eyes as she brings the glass to her lips. "My shift ended fifteen minutes ago. I'm unwinding before I help clean up."

"Not going home?"

"I live upstairs," she says, "wouldn't make much sense."

"Oh? Do you own this club?"

"Yeah," Yang replies, grinning at her. "You think I could get away with kissing a customer on the cheek if I didn't?"

Shrugging her shoulders, Blake simply lifts her drink to her lips, angling the straw into her mouth with her tongue. She enjoys how Yang's eyes linger on her lips, realizing just how the action must look.

"Sorry about that, personal space and all," she continues, her lavender orbs feasting on Blake's lips as the faunus licks the liquid away slowly. "You came here with friends, didn't you?"

"How can you tell?" Blake asks, dropping her cheek into her palm.

"The way you're dressed," Yang answer, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. "Be honest. You look like someone dragged you out when you'd rather be, well, reading."

"If I'm being honest, you've got it dead on," the faunus replies, stirring her drink with the straw. Her gaze falls to the glass, watching the ice clink together in the liquid. "But I'm not having a bad time. It's pretty okay if I'm close to the bar. Not as many people dancing around here – except for the bartenders."

The joke elicits a light chuckle, and perhaps the slightest amount of insecurity. "Hopefully that's not so bad, either?"

To think that this fire-haired angel had any kind of insecurity was criminal – though, she couldn't help but think it endearing. The woman before her, with beautiful golden hair, with a body any other girl would kill for, somehow was humble enough – despite her party-minded attitude – to have any doubt in her abilities?

"You were amazing," is Blake's earnest reply.

There's a spark in Yang's eyes – something real that shines through the lightness and sensuality of her previous attitude. Her blond eyebrows relax as Blake looks into her eyes, the smile fading away from her face. Blake's heart races once more, warmth spreading out from her chest all the way through her limbs. She takes a deep breath to try and steady a sudden onslaught of tremors, desire racing through her. Yang's face is intent, blazing eyes that only blink occasionally peering right into the faunus. A concoction of emotions flit across the human's face – indecision, conflict, and then, finally, something breaks. Yang smirks, downing the last of her drink before holding her hand out to Blake.

"Would you like to dance?" the blond inquires.

Blake's hand falls into her's as she retorts, "It's about time you asked."

They go out into the dancefloor beneath the lofts, joining the group of dancers. Not really much of a dancer herself, Blake pulls out her typical repressed nerd dance routine – spreading her knees to shoulder width and bobbing along to the beat of the music. Yang grins at the sight, but says nothing, joining Blake in the simple buoy-like dance move. After a moment, the faunus realizes the blond's eyes are shining with humor, and she accuses, "You're mocking me!"

"No," Yang instantly defends, giggling like a child. "No, I'm not!"

Blake glares at her, muttering, "We can't all be good dancers."

"Oh please," she murmurs. Her hands reach forward and Blake nearly gasps when the woman's fingertips find her hips. For the second time that night, Blake allows herself to be twirled by Yang. She stiffens when she feels the woman's body press lightly into her back, her breasts grazing her shoulder blades. Yang chuckles, "Relax, I won't bite."

Blake feels the woman moving behind her and follows the gentle pressure on her hips. The blond's palms lightly guide her hips to and fro. Easing into the motion, Blake finds the movement naturally, letting out her breath as she feels her muscles begin to relax.

"There you go…" she whispers, her breath warm on Blake's neck.

The dark-haired woman takes deep breaths to try and control her heart rate, but Yang's fingers travelling up to her waist exhilarate her. A soft moan escapes her as the blond's warm hands pass over her ribs, and she's sure that Yang hears. Her face burns in embarrassment, but Yang doesn't stop. Her hands roam up to her shoulders, lightly pushing on them now. Blake adheres, adding a slow shimmy of her shoulders to the rock of her hips.

Blake giggles, shaking her head. "I look so stupid!"

"Who cares how you look?" Yang fires back, taking her hand. She raises it up, and Blake twirls towards her. They shimmy back and forth together without touching, as though there were magnets keeping half of a foot's worth of distance between them. Blushing and laughing, the faunus looks up at the bartender as their hands clasp, delighting in her toothy, lopsided smile. There's warmth in her lilac eyes. "If it matters, I think you look amazing."

And Blake believes her.

Even in her black sweater and jeans, her hair unkempt, there's something about the way Yang looks at her that makes her feel truly desirable. It's a high that lets go of her insecurities for her, and she comes undone in the blond's arms. They move their arms back and forth, their poses entwining as Yang's takes a bold step in between her legs.

Blake watches as the blond's hips roll expertly towards her, never touching but _so_ close. Her golden eyes sweep over the orange tank top, seeing her muscular abdomen beneath her shirt, the swells of her breasts as they bounce to her movements. Her biceps bulge as they move, her shoulders and neck flexing visibly with every movement. Her body is hot and radiates heat through Blake, who yearns to feel her closer, to hold her. Her hands tighten around Yang's.

"You're unbelievable," Blake proclaims loudly over the music.

Yang's eyes sparkle in the lights dancing over their heads. She pulls Blake's hands up behind her neck, and the faunus locks her fingers together, drawing their bodies nearer. The movement pushes her pelvic bone into Yang's hip, and the blond's swaying motions and the leg brushing in between her thighs makes her gasp. Blake's hands move to grasp the blond's shoulders to steady herself, marvelling at the tension that pushes back against her fingers. The sensation of her jeans brushing against her thigh, of grinding against Yang's leg, evokes a pulse in her core. She moans as the grind grows closer, Yang's fingers locking on her lower back and pulling her body nearly flush into hers. The swells of the blond's breasts graze against Blake's, her nipples hardenings beneath the confines of her tank top.

Yang's eyes darken alluringly, gazing through her lashes as she purrs, "You're not wearing a bra."

"Problem?" Blake breathes, her fingers climbing up the bridge of her neck, nails scraping her scalp.

Yang utters a soft groan at the touch, and Blake combusts at the sound. She draws herself up against the dancer, pressing a kiss to the woman's lips. Instantly, Yang reciprocates, their lips molding together as they crush together. The blond's tongue swipes tentatively at her lips, and Blake concedes, her lips and teeth parting as Yang deepens their kiss. Their tongues dance as well, feverish and hungry, searching over sharp canines and plump lips.

Too soon, they part for air, breathing heavily against each other. Each gasp for oxygen presses their chests deliciously together, Blake's perky nipples rubbing into Yang's chest in a way that makes the blond visibly shudder. The dark-haired girl feels sweat trickle down her temple, realizing just how hot she is now, in Yang's arms. Her skin burns everywhere, an inferno in every place she touches.

"We're gunna set this place on fire," Yang murmurs, reading her mind.

Blake smiles at that, but she can't think of something to say. Her brain doesn't want to work, doesn't want to figure out the words she can say to keep this going. She can only stare, dumbfounded, into Yang's eyes as she wonders what the hell just happened. Her arms tighten around Yang, her fingers scraping along the line of Yang's skull. Fiery hands slide up her spine, cradling the slope of her upper back. Her lilac eyes peer back at her, just as confused, just as skeptical, questioning.

"Blake!"

Jumping away, Blake swivels to see Weiss standing at the foot of the stairs, her jaw dropped in a similar fashion as earlier. She points at the blond, and then at Blake, before realizing herself and stating, "I called a cab. Ruby and I are going home. You're going to tell me everything tomorrow!"

She rushes away like she was intruding. Blake and Yang share a glance before the two burst into laughter.

Shaking her head, the bartender grabs Blake's hand and tugs her back towards the bar. "Come on, let's go somewhere quieter."

"Okay," the faunus chuckles softly, her fingers tangling with the blond's. The touch feels natural, _good_. She doesn't mind the light dampness of sweat on her skin, basking in the warmth of her palm. She doesn't even question as the woman draws her to the back of the bar, passed the doors leading into the kitchens. The cooks ignore her for the most part as Yang navigates to the back, where a set of stairs and an exit door are. Blake's eyes roam over the woman's back, appreciating the swell of her butt and the flex of her legs as she walks up the stairs.

They climb four flights before they get to Yang's floor, and she unlocks the door. She holds it open for Blake, who pauses at the door.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," Blake tells her, flushing at her behaviour.

Yang smiles kindly at her hesitation, her thumb passing gently along Blake's. "Honestly, neither do I."

"What were you thinking?"

"A couple more drinks," Yang sighs, leaning against the door. Her head rests on the corner of the metal door, her eyes lighting up at Blake. "Some conversation. I couldn't think down stairs."

Blake can't help but admire the blond more, smiling up at her.

Yang grins back dreamily. "What?"

"I didn't expect to meet someone so patient at a club," the noirette answers, walking into the blond's apartment. Yang's apartment is open-concept for the most part, the door leading immediately into a big living room. The ceiling is tall, and the room has a loft much like the ones in the club. She stands just inside, looking around at the brick walls and the wooden framing that made the place look only halfway done.

There's a couch in the living room made of leather with a throw across the back of it, knitted just like the one she had at home. She had a couple of short book cases, a television on the opposite side of the windows and in front of the couch. The floors were made of hardwood – except the ones in the kitchen, which were a dark brown tile. There were picture frames all across the room that she couldn't help but give her attention to, pausing when she notices photos of a familiar red-head in the photos.

"That's my friend, Ruby," Blake points out, plucking a picture frame up from one of the bookcases. She glances towards Yang, eyebrow rising. "You're not…"

"She's my younger sister," Yang admits, laughing. "Were you with her tonight? I saw her with that girl that said bye to you, now that I think about it."

"Yeah, Weiss," Blake confides, wondering at the coincidence. She shakes her head. "Rubes always said her sister works at the Yellow Flag, not that she owns it."

"I _do_ work there," the blond replies. She goes into the kitchen. Blake's ears flick as she hears glasses clink and the fridge opening. "She probably just didn't think it was important. Probably didn't think her friend would try to hit on one of the dancers."

Blake gawks at the tease, throwing her a glare through the little window in the wall to the kitchen. "Excuse me?"

Coming around the corner and grinning like a villain, Yang continues, "Oh, please, you were totally hitting on me. The second you sat down."

The bartender plops down on her couch, bouncing as she makes herself comfortable. She reaches forward, pouring some of the liquor – a type of Irish whiskey – into the glasses. Blake watches, wondering what the whiskey might taste like, as she comes to sit beside the blond on the couch.

"Don't feel obligated," Yang tells her, passing her the half-full glass. "I'm just trying to catch up."

Appreciating the sentiment, Blake takes a sip from her own glass before placing it back on the table. The whiskey is bitter and scorches all the way down her throat. Her mind is already muddied from the drinks of earlier, evident in the ever-present heat behind her cheeks. Yang downs her own glass in an instant, but she doesn't mind. She smiles at the blond's grimace and confides, "I want to remember this later. So I might drink slowly."

Yang hums at that, smirking. "Oh? Remember what, exactly?"

"The time I got brought up into a bartender-stripper cross' apartment dressed in a sweater with my sweet dance moves," the faunus jabs.

"Stripper?" the blond croaks, coughing through a bark of laughter. "Jesus, I wish. I mean, I pole dance, but I don't have the kind of coordination for stripping."

"That surprises me."

"Taking your clothes off while dancing is hard," Yang comments, nodding. "Having no clothes on in the first place and dancing is a lot easier to do. Damn, though, I wish – stripping would make me a lot of money. And it'd be fun."

"Do you think you could do it?" Blake wonders, leaning towards the blond. "You seem to like teasing people with your body. It's not really teasing if people get to see everything in the end."

The blond tilts her head back, gazing up at the ceiling thoughtfully before she replies, "Yeah, you have a point. It might not be any fun if I'm hanging out all over the place anyway. My boobs don't really look great without a bra."

"Oh, please." The dark-haired woman scoffs and rolls her eyes.

"Big boobs are great in theory until they're flopping around like udders."

The comment makes Blake snort, bursting into laughter. She hides her face in her shoulder, curling away from the blond as she attempts to contain herself.

"What? It's true!" Yang exclaims, eyebrows rising in surprise. She makes a face, muttering, "Hurts, too."

"I wouldn't know," Blake sighs, her laughter growing softer. She leans on the back of the couch and appreciates the blond. Not just her looks, but her humor and her willingness to just hang out struck her as incredibly attractive qualities. Golden eyes grow soft as Yang rolls her head to face her, noticing her stare. The blond reaches out to her, and she stretches her fingers out across the couch until their fingertips touch.

The fissure of distance between them seems to become more glaringly obvious. She presses the pads of her fingers into Yang's, their digits curling into one another's as their reach climbs towards each other's palms. She marvels at how normal this feels, wondering how it is that touching a complete stranger would feel more natural than touching anyone else her whole life. She wonders if she's the only one between them that feels this connection, frowning in self-doubt as she gazes into violet eyes.

"You're far away," the blond murmurs, easing the noirette's self-consciousness. Her fingers fold around Blake's, tugging ever so slightly, asking permission.

The faunus concedes, pulling herself over to Yang and throwing her leg over her legs. She straddles the blond's lap, sitting lightly down on the dancer's lap. Yang's fingers move to her legs, gliding up and down the length of her thighs. The touch elicits a sigh from Blake, whose ears flick back in shy realization – neither of them is going to fight this connection.

Yang gazes up at her face, softly asking, "Can I kiss you?"

Blake smirks. "Didn't we break that ice earlier?"

"You were very forward," Yang agrees, her hands sliding up to the faunus' hips. "But I don't want to force you. You seemed unsure for a second."

Brushing her fingers through her golden tresses, Blake dips her head down. She watches Yang's eyes flutter to a close, smiling as she presses another kiss to the dancer's lips. Taking it slowly, Blake's lips gently massage Yang's, parting them slightly. A soft moan escapes the woman's wonderful, plump pink lips and Blake can't stop the helpless fluttering in her stomach. She bears down on the woman as though any distance was tragic, her breasts pushing into Yang's.

The blond gives her full control, her hands resting on the dark-haired woman's hips. Her hands guide her hips back forward, and Blake permits the slow rocking motion with a low groan. Yang's thumbs drag unhurried, sensual patterns along her hips, her fingers pushing her sweater up just slightly. Her touch is soft on Blake's skin, feather-light, the sensation akin to a tickle.

Tilting her head, Blake deepens their kiss. Lightly, her teeth graze the blond's lip, and the reaction is instant. She feels Yang's heartbeat through their clothes, gasping when the dancer's hips buck up against hers. Breathing in sharply, she grips Yang's shoulders as she grinds their hips together, the button of her shorts drawing lines against her crotch. She loses control, breaking the kiss in her surprise but Yang is quick to take over.

Lips crashing down on the flesh of her neck, Blake moans loudly. She desperately curls her fingers into Yang's shoulders, panting as her kisses turn into amorous sucks and bites. The noirette makes a noise that's somewhere between a moan and a lascivious laugh, only to gasp once more when Yang's hands slide down to her ass. Strong fingers squeeze her sensitive glutes, the pressure on her behind suddenly making her weightless.

Yang stands, holding Blake in her arms like she weighs nothing. The noirette's legs wrap around the dancer's waist for support, her heart slamming against the cage of her sternum as the blond walks through her apartment like she weighs nothing. Her fingers brush through the woman's hair, gasping as her kisses travel down to her collar. The blond slams her down onto something – a bookcase – thrusting her back into the wall as her mouth forms around her collar. The ministrations of her tongue on Blake's skin make shivers fly up and down the length of her spine.

"Touch me," Blake begs, feeling her hands move to rest on her hips again. "Please."

Yang needs no further encouragement. Her hands travel up into Blake's sweater. She peels the dark garment along with the tank top beneath off of her, revealing the noirette in a smooth motion. The cool apartment air does nothing to alleviate the fever pitch between them, the goosebumps that rise across her flesh sensitive as the blond turns her attention to her breasts. Yang is _hot_ , her fingers scorching up the length of Blake's lean abdomen to caress one of the mounds. The faunus leans her head back, pushing into the woman's palm, her molten flesh exciting crackles of tingles across her skin.

Blake leans back, gripping the bookcase for balance as the woman's hands leave her butt, pinning her to the wooden furniture with only her hips. Yang's hand twists over her breast, her fingers closing in on her firm nipple and tweaking it curiously. The raven haired woman's hips buck in need, her heart erratic. With every inquisitive pluck, Blake feels sparks ignite at the apex between her legs. Her clit pulses in arousal, and she squirms beneath Yang's onslaught.

"Please," she breathes again, her voice weak with need.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Yang chuckles, low and sultry. She pulls Blake up off the bookcase and carries her down a hall hidden behind the kitchen.

As they move, Blake curls her fingers into Yang's top, planting a hard kiss into her lips. She's eagerly received, the blond's intense lips returning in fervor. Their tongues tie between them, wrestling in demand for more from one another. The noirette bunches Yang's tank top in her fingers, attempting to remove the offending article. She doesn't get far before she's abruptly tossed, yelping in surprise before she lands on a well-cushioned bed with a thick comforter.

Her eyes fly up to Yang's, mouth agape.

"Too much?" Yang inquires, smiling sheepishly as she pulls her tank top over her head. She's as well-defined as Blake had thought, lined with lean muscle, her body shaped as though she were chiselled from stone. Her golden stare raises to the white, intricate lace of her bra, and she forgets having been thrown as the woman comes towards her.

Sweeping the woman's knee out from under her, Blake flips her onto her back and climb on top of her once more. Yang slams back against the bed, grinning foxily up at the noirette.

"Not at all," Blake murmurs, dipping down to plant a kiss against the woman's jaw. She follows the slightly protruding tendon of her neck down her throat, nibbling lightly on her skin as she makes her way down towards Yang's chest. The woman's skin flushes before her eyes, her chest rising in heaves as Blake's lips travel between her breasts. Reaching underneath the blond, she unclips her bra and slides it off of her. Yang's breasts spill out from the garment, red lines from the tight piece of clothing spiderwebbed across her skin, but Blake's in awe nonetheless. She kisses the woman's voluptuous breasts with abandon, her hands snaking up Yang's sides to her arms, pinning them above her head. Her encouragement comes in the form of moans and breathy, impatient sighs, Blake's lips leaving tiny love marks across the mounds of her breasts. Incredulous at her previous insult towards her breasts, Blake growls into her flesh, "You lied to me."

Yang gasps when the noirette nips her sensitive flesh, her tongue trailing along the underside of her breast slowly. A garden of pink and red hickeys blossom across her large breasts when Blake finally moves on, pressing languishing kisses into her ribs before moving over her tightly-muscled core. She can't help but grin as the woman's squirming grows more and more restless – Yang's frustration turning her on all the more.

It isn't long before Yang upends her, flipping them over again. Blake sighs, watching as Yang rises above her, her fingers delving to the dark-haired woman's jeans.

"I can't take this anymore," the passionate blond groans. Thrills of excitement shoot through Blake as Yang undoes the buttons of her pants. She bucks her hips up in anticipation. Yang's fingers glide along the outside of her panties, her violet eyes fixing on Blake's face as she teases the skin at the junction of her hip and thigh. Uttering a noise of frustration, the noirette reaches up and grabs the woman's shoulders, pulling her down against her.

Suspending herself above the faunus, Yang pins the woman down with just enough weight. Her lilac eyes bore hungrily into hers, and Blake suddenly understands – not only does Yang enjoy being watched, she was a voyeur herself. A wave of heat explodes through her, her face burning as Yang's fingers trace her slit from outside the panties.

Breathing tremulously, Blake moans, letting her head fall back. The teasing drives her insane. Heat pours through her without relief, her clit pulsing as she feels herself getting wet. The muscles of her visceral walls clench in desire as Yang's fingers trace alone the hem of her panties, pushing them slowly off to the side. Blake's labia parts readily as Yang's fingertips push along her slit, sucking in a breath as she feels the woman's warm digits slide easily along her moist flesh.

"You're so wet," Yang sighs, her eyes clouding over dreamily as she gazes at Blake's face. The midnight haired woman's heart skips a beat at the look, never expecting to have felt so beautiful in the arms of a stranger. She slides her hands up the blond's back, pulling her closer in against her, tasting the heavy musk of her citrusy scent mixed with sweat and sex. Yang kisses the side of her face, releasing a shuddering breath against Blake's ear as her fingers stroke tenderly over her folds.

Blake's hips rise and fall with the movement of Yang's hand, feeling the blond's fingers slide easily along her entrance, up to her clit, and all the way back again. For a few moments, Yang allows her to use her fingers as she pleased, holding her hand in place as the faunus' hips guide them across her pussy.

She whimpers softly, but Yang smothers the noise with her lips. Adjusting over her, she pushes Blake's pants down to her midthighs, trapping the woman's legs a little as her hand returns to the noirette's core. Her fingers glide over Blake's slit once more, delving past her labia to stroke her clit. The motion shoots electricity through all of Blake's being, her mouth dropping open in ecstasy as the pulsing nub finally gets some attention. Yang starts with slow, purposeful circles that match the pace of their kiss, adjusting as Blake's hips writhe underneath her.

Yang's lips descend on her. She bites Blake's collar, her lips vacuum-sealing to her skin. With a gasp, the faunus helplessly digs her nails into wherever she can, eliciting a moan from the blond as they sink into a muscular waist. Not one to be outdone, Yang's fingers press against her entrance. There's an instant of tension as her lips mold around her fingers, and she, with a treacherously slow pace, pushes the tips of her fingers inside of her.

Arching her back, Blake's breathing shortens into shuddering gasps. She feels herself stretch to accommodate the blond's fingers, her flesh throbbing with desire. Her legs twitch against the restraint of her pants, and Yang seems to notice – using her freehand to pull the trousers off of her. Her legs wrap around Yang's waist as soon as they're gone, and the blond presses down against her, her large breasts flush against the faunus'. Adding another finger, Yang ceases her patient ministrations. Blake sees her brow draw in concentration, moaning loudly as the blond pumps into her womanhood, her thumb grazing her clit with every thrust.

" _Yang_ ," she whimpers. The name falls from her lips, the most natural thing in the world. Knots of tension coil in her core and the insides of her thighs, her knees trembling as Yang's pace grows in speed. The blond's tongue traces a line from her collar up to her ears, guiding Blake's earlobe between her teeth. The sharp points of her teeth send shivers through her entire body. She clings to Yang for stability, reduced to feral groans and unconscious jerks of her hips. Pleasure runs its course through her body, the stroking sensations on her clit and the strength of her fingers pushing through her womanhood igniting an inferno in her gut.

Yang's lips travel further up, to her catlike ears, and she nibbles their tips in a way that sends an explosion of satisfaction through the faunus. Her face burns as her muscles being to seize, the bite of her nails in Yang's skin surely painful, but the blond doesn't seem to care. Blake can't help herself as she raises her head, clamping down on the blond's shoulder with brutal force, her teeth digging into her muscle. At first, Yang grunts the pain surprising her, but she dissolves into loud, overtly sexual cries that send Blake over the edge.

" _Yang!_ " she screams, unable to control her body.

"Cum for me," Yang demands, her breath hot on Blake's ear.

Spasms wrack through the faunus' whole body. She feels her walls flex and squeeze around Yang's fingers, but the woman powers through, thrusting faster and twirling her clit beneath the pressure of her thumb. She comes undone with a forceful orgasm, her body twitching and shaking beneath Yang's, her hold on the blond tightening as she pushes up against her. Pins and needles explode through the insides of her thighs as white-hot sensuality courses through her core, her muscles moving to the beat of its waves as they crash through her. She's unsure how long this lasts, her body suspended in sensation, her mind clearing as she sees stars.

Slowly, her fingers and legs relax. Her orgasm leaves her body weak and pleasantly exhausted. Allowing her hands to roam Yang's sides, she explores the curve of the blond's back as she recovers, taking deep breaths as the woman softly kisses her neck. Blake sighs at the placement of each tender press of Yang's lips, tilting her head back to give her more space. She can't help but feel like she's glowing, this high one of the most intense things she's ever felt.

"You're so beautiful," Yang sighs, shifting her weight off of the faunus. She lays on her side beside the dark-haired woman, propping herself up on one arm. Blake's gaze slides up to her lilac stare. The blond smiles contentedly back at her, and Blake can't help but remark just how special that makes her feel. She leans up, capturing that wonderful smile in a gentle kiss.

Blake takes the opportunity to shift their positions, rolling the blond onto her back. She touches Yang's hip with her finger tips, tracing the lines of her muscular abdomen up and down. Her skin is burning to the touch, and she lavishes in every inch of Yang explored, her hands rising along her side to caress the woman's breast. Yang's breath catches in her throat, and she feels her jump beneath her as though she's surprised that Blake's reciprocating her amazing display.

Pulling away, the faunus frowns in concern. "Do you not want me to?"

"I do," Yang replies quickly, croaking. She meets Blake's gaze, clearing her throat and murmuring, "I was just surprised."

"You shouldn't be," Blake whispers, her eyes sliding closed as she moves into kiss Yang once more. This time, as her fingers squeeze her breast, the blond simply moans in response. Strong arms wrap around the dark-haired woman's shoulders, pulling her in closer.

As their lips move in sync, the faunus takes the time to explore the blond's tastes. She experiments with the woman's nipple, wondering how sensitive her breasts were. Yang sighs softly, her fingers brushing through Blake's hair. Her hand glides back down her side, noticing the goosebumps beneath her touch as her hand moves along her side. When she grazes her nails along the skin, an erogenous moan bursts from the blond's lips, breaking their kiss.

Smiling at the reaction, Blake exploration travels lower on Yang's body, her lips softly grazing over the bulges of her abdomen. She undoes the blond's shorts, her fingers trailing along their hem teasingly. She kisses Yang's hips, her ears flicking as she enjoys her quiet, pleased noises. She savors every one, careful not to hurry.

"Take them off," Yang orders, propping herself up on her elbows.

Blake grins at the impatience but does as she's told. Curling her fingers into the denim, she pulls them off with a single tug, tossing them across the room before pouncing upon the blond once more. The scent of the blond's arousal is intoxicating.

 _Guess I'm not the only one who shaves._

Hooking Yang's leg over her shoulder, Blake relishes her reactionary gasp as she takes control. Her skin is smooth under her hand. Turning, Blake kisses slowly up the length of the inside of her thigh. Yang's pulse thumps against her lips, her smooth, and shaven skin feverish. The faunus can feel the tightness of the muscles in her legs and an animalistic possessiveness consumes her. Admiring the blond's body just gets her wet again, her own clit thumping as she bites the sensitive skin at the height of Yang's thigh.

"God…" the blond breathlessly whimpers, quivering at Blake's teasing.

Finally reaching her white panties, the dark-haired beauty trails her lips teasingly along the hem of the thin garment. Warmth emanates from Yang's bare pussy in waves - how could Blake not tease her? She kisses along her vulva, not bothering to move the panties aside, hearing frustrated growls above her head. Her tongue traces lightly over the outlines of her labia, pushing them apart and pressing her panties into her inner lips. The fingers in her hair grow restless, nails scraping over her scalp hungrily.

Obliging, Blake moves away to pull her panties off of her. She flings them in the direction of the woman's shorts before looking down at her, feasting her eyes on the toned amazon at her whims. Yang's body is flushed and goosefleshed all at once, her nipples erect atop volumous breasts, bouncing with her heaving breaths. She pinches her lip between her teeth, gazing back up at Blake through thick lashes. Blake's stare makes the woman blush self-consciously.

"What do you like?" the faunus purrs, her hand trailing up and down Yang's legs. Her gaze skims down to her womanhood, her hand sliding over her thigh. She trails her thumb through her labia, slowly stroking the hardened nub of her clit.

"Your tongue," she whispers, moving her hips to match Blake's thumb.

Humming, the dark-haired beauty concedes and bows back down to Yang's womanhood. She supports the woman's leg on her shoulder, sliding her arms beneath her thighs so that they rest beside her head. Resting one hand on her pubic bone, Blake softly laps at Yang's labia, gingerly playing with her inner lips. Her ears flick as the blond sucks in a breath, and she presses her tongue further, grinding along her clit. Blake marvels at the taste, wondering how it was that a woman could taste of tangerine sweetness and salt.

Yang's fingers tighten in her hair, winding her black locks between her fingers. It encourages Blake, who starts flicking her clit back and forth with her tongue, leaning into her womanhood. Moving her hips like the dancer she is, Blake revels in the pride that bursts from her chest as Yang grinds into her face. She reaches her free hand up to fondle Yang's breast as she eagerly goes down, her tongue rolling her clit in faster and faster circles. Powerful thighs tremble with every circle, Yang's abdomen tightening.

Yang cries out with abandon, her voice resounding through the room.

The faunus doesn't slow even as the blond comes undone in shivers and trembles, her hips gyrating beneath the dark-haired woman's hand. Yang rides out her orgasm as Blake's tongue lightly continues its ministrations. She writhes in her sensitivity and Blake follows her, her tongue dragging along Yang's slit, tasting the slickness of her womanhood.

"S-stop, stop," Yang laughs, tapping Blake's ear.

Removing herself, Blake smiles up at her, resting her chin on the woman's pubic bone. "Too much?"

"Sensitive," the blond agrees, her legs relaxing exhaustedly.

Climbing up, Blake flops onto her side, lying alongside her partner. Her gaze lingers on Yang's face, enjoying watching her brow furrow and her lips move as she attempts to catch her breath. She curls up to the blond, enjoying her citrusy, musky scent. Yang adjusts around her, throwing her arm over Blake's side.

Golden eyes meet lilac. Blake's heart squeezes at the sight of the warmth in her eyes, and she stretches forward and kisses her nose.

"You've…had practice," Yang says, grinning.

"I might have, once or twice," the faunus replies softly, blinking sleepily. "You, too."

Trailing fingers draw circles along the dark-haired woman's side. Neither of them is very keen on staying awake. Blake can't help it as her eyes flutter closed, tired from a combination of the booze and the exertion. She falls asleep to the sensation of Yang's touch along her waist, warm and content.


End file.
